


like the broken shards of a mirror (we are fractured parts of one whole)

by autumnalesque



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Complicated Relationships, Love/Hate, M/M, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22729483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnalesque/pseuds/autumnalesque
Summary: For day 1 of dimilix week, I combined the prompts for 'firsts' and 'modern au'.In high school, Dimitri and Felix live through the same trauma, but they deal with the aftermath of it in very different ways.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	like the broken shards of a mirror (we are fractured parts of one whole)

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something where Felix and Dimitri were both present when Glenn and Dimitri's family were killed, and what better place to do it than a modern AU? The way the two of them respond to experiencing such violence firsthand is a pretty striking contrast, and I wanted to explore the 'what if' of Felix letting himself spiral in the aftermath. I had some other ideas for this, so I might come back to it at some point because I've actually thought way too much about the background of this one. 
> 
> Tomorrow's will be more lighthearted, but I didn't want this one to feel entirely hopeless, either-- despite their trauma, the two of them do still have each other.

Their first kiss is not some romantic thing out of a storybook, like Dimitri had always envisioned when they were younger and full of hope and innocence. Instead, it is messy, and bordering on violent (as most of their interactions tended to be, these days). Felix tastes like cigarette smoke (a habit he’d picked up from Glenn, god rest his soul), cheap whiskey, and maybe a little blood. 

The booming bass of some shitty top forty dance mix vibrates up through the floor to the tiny second story bathroom where they find themselves, Felix with his back pressed up against the sink and his hands gripped tight in the fabric of Dimitri's favorite blue hoodie. Felix's split lip is swollen and rough against Dimitri's lips and teeth and tongue, a spiteful reminder of why they had ended up here in the first place. 

It's dirty and messy and it _aches_ in a way Dimitri hates, because he never wanted things between them to be like this. This wasn't _them_ , it wasn't _him_. Dimitri never drinks, despite the temptation of it, but he had relented tonight when Sylvain had pressed him enough, because it was easier than the alternative: watching Felix self-destruct in slow motion, Dimitri’s heart in his devastating grip the whole time. 

Felix groans against him, and it isn’t the type of sound that is pleasurable; Dimitri pulls back just in time, Felix twisting around in the absence of his grip to drop to his knees so he can empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Dimitri’s own stomach turns at the sight of it, for more reasons than one, but still he reaches, his fingers threading through Felix’s long hair to pull it back from his face before he can stop himself. 

Felix does not tell him to stop, or push him away, so Dimitri keeps his hand there, waiting for the way Felix’s entire body shudders in dry heaves to stop. When he seems to be done, Dimitri reluctantly lets go of him, sinking down to the floor with his back resting against the bathtub, the only place he’ll be able to see Felix’s face.

The pulsing beat of the music and the incoherent loudness of the voices of their peers rages around them, but here in this small space somewhere in between, the two of them are very much alone. It strikes him that they haven’t been alone like this since his father’s funeral. It’s strange to think about, when they had been so inseparable before. 

“Why,” Felix rasps, after a moment, and Dimitri watches him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes coming up to meet Dimitri’s sharper than they should be, “are you still here.” 

Dimitri wants to laugh. _Because you’re here,_ he wants to say, but the words die in his throat. Instead, he only smiles, wryly, and shrugs.

“One of us has to make sure you don’t do something stupid, and you and I both know Sylvain isn’t exactly the paragon of responsibility, Felix.” he says, and Felix makes a disgusted noise, leaning back over the toilet again. He does not get sick again, but he looks, for a moment, like he might. 

“I hate you,” he says, and Dimitri sighs.

“I know.” 

“And Sylvain. And Ingrid. All of you. I thought I’d made that clear, and yet here you are, here you _always fucking are_.” Felix slams his head back against the sink cabinet hard enough that it makes Dimitri wince, but it doesn’t seem to phase Felix in the slightest. He was, Dimitri supposes, very drunk.

“And yet here _you_ are, in Sylvain’s house, where all of us happen to be. I don’t care what you think of me, Felix, but you can’t speak to Ingrid the way you did earlier. Grief doesn’t excuse the things you said to her. She worries for you, you know. We all do.” he says, and Felix does laugh, then; a strangled, awful sound.

“As if you’re any better. Just because you pretend like everything’s fine? That isn’t normal either, you sanctimonious asshole. God, every time I look at you I want to be sick.”

Dimitri can practically feel his own heart breaking like so much glass in his chest. The feeling of it punctures his lungs, makes it hard to breathe. 

“You kissed me, you know, but that’s beside the point. You and I both know I’m not fine, Felix. How could I be? You lost your brother, yes, but I lost someone too. I lost my father, and Glenn was my friend, too. We were both there, Felix. How could I ever be fine, seeing what we saw that day?” Dimitri says, his voice shaking despite himself. His head is swimming just enough that it makes him feel dizzy, when he looks to the tiled floor. 

He shuts his eyes. Too loose with his words, maybe. He shouldn’t be saying these things, and yet they tumble from his lips like secrets he’d been holding in for fear of bursting wide open. 

Felix doesn’t answer him for quite some time. They sit there on the floor of the bathroom, like a moment stuck in time, and to Dimitri it feels like an eternity. 

“Sometimes, I swear I could still see him,” Felix near-whispers, his voice soft but hoarse with emotion. Dimitri’s eyes startle open, blood pounding loud in his ears. “Out of the corner of my eye, or when I wake up in the middle of the night soaked in sweat. I can still see him there, watching me. I think my dad sees it too, it’s why he started drinking so much. Like father like son, right?” he laughs, harshly. 

This is the most Felix has spoken to him since the shooting, months ago. For weeks after, he hadn't spoken to anyone at all. Dimitri feels relief wash over him in a wave. 

"I… sometimes I think I see them, too. You aren't alone in that, Felix." He says, quietly, in response. 

The haunted look Felix has is one Dimitri shares, after all. When Dimitri looks at him, it's as though that day is playing out again in the reflection of Felix's eyes. Dimitri remembers the way Glenn had thrown his body over them, shielding the two of them. He remembers, vividly, the warm, wet feeling of blood soaking his shirt. 

He remembers the way Felix had screamed, so loud that the sound of it rang in Dimitri's ears for days. 

"I think," he says, against his better judgment, "I need another drink. Are you coming?" He says, extending a hand to Felix as he pulls himself to his feet. 

Felix seems to think about it for a moment, and Dimitri is certain he will not reach for him. That he does after several moments is a pleasant surprise, and Dimitri holds Felix's hand tightly, committing the feeling of it to memory. 

"Fine," he says, and Dimitri cannot hide the smile that gets, despite himself. "But I'm crashing at your place tonight. No way am I staying here." 

There's something of a promise behind those words, but Dimitri doesn't want to read too much into it. His apartment is a short walk from Sylvain's house, but the weather is fine enough for it. 

"Whatever you want, Felix," he says, and opens the bathroom door. They step through it, back out into the throngs of people, back to the real world. 

This time, though, neither of them are alone. Sometimes, Dimitri thinks, that can make all the difference.


End file.
